Just let the wind untie my perfumed hair
my net would capture every wild gazelle.
Just let me paint my flashing eyes with black,
and I would turn the day as dark as hell.
Yearning, each dawn, to see my dazzling face,
the heaven lifts its golden looking-glass.
If I should pass a church by chance today,
Christ's own virgins would rush to my gospel.
Tahirih
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